There were two times in my life that I said “I will never” do something. Both times, I ended up doing the very thing I said I would not. 

The first time, I said: “I will never date a non-believer”. Less than three months later, I was in a relationship with one.

Ours was all about the emotion. He was a writer too, slick with words, and I was smitten, in love with love. 

I thought that a person could complete me, but I soon realised that at the core of my being, there was a God-sized hole in my heart that only He could fill.

Before long, it was clear that our differences weren’t skin deep. The rift went to the core of our beings. “You must believe in God,” I begged with tears, but he was unmoved. We broke up, but couldn’t stay apart as we saw each other every day in school. 

One night he walked into a place I would never have stepped into because I was a Christian. I sobbed quietly in the lobby while a concerned security guard asked me if I was alright. Deep inside, I knew the relationship would have to come to an end. He and I, like oil and water, light and darkness, were never meant to be together. 

I admit I’d pursued the relationship because I was lonely and wanted to be loved. I wish I could turn back time and retrieve those lost weeks, months and years, and undo the hurt I caused both of us. I knew God loved me but the knowledge was only cognitive. I needed and wanted a physical person to hug and to hold.

I didn’t understand then the depth of God’s love for me, or fully appreciate Jesus’ death for me on the cross to pay the price for my sins. I thought that a person could complete me, but I soon realised that at the core of my being, there was a God-sized hole in my heart that only He could fill.

I wanted out but felt so helpless. I prayed and God had to pry me out of that relationship. I carried the hurt – hurt that I caused myself – for years. But God knew the ending of that story, when many years later he brought D into my life.

The second time I said those famous words, they were: “I will never like D.” I wrote it on a white Post-It note and stuck it in a card to my friend, asking her to hold it against me should I break my word. I signed it with my full name and IC number. “I xxxxx, NRIC xxxxxxxx, will never like D“. At that time, I liked someone else then who looked better on the surface. 

Of course I ended up marrying D. 

We had known each other for five years in church before we finally got attached. He made his move at a time when I was embroiled in another dangerously emotional relationship. I was in trouble and didn’t know what to do. I prayed and asked God to send someone to save me. 

In my journal during quiet time one day, I drew a picture of myself with my face in my hands and my feet restrained in a ball and chain. I was a small figure, deep in a pit. But there was a giant hand that was reaching into the pit to scoop me out. 

The hand of God moved in the form of a phone call from D. “Erm, hello. I’m calling to ask you if you have any special discounts for magazine subscriptions.”

“Why are you really calling me?” I replied. He dropped the pretence and blurted out: “I was thinking … I was wondering if we could prayerfully consider a relationship.” 

We still have our conflicts and bad days, but in this I have hope: That a marriage founded in God’s love is stronger than one founded in emotions, which are fleeting.

I said to wait, as I was still in an emotional mess. Then something else big and bad happened to my family in Church, and D swiftly entered at that point to render assistance and support, and the rest is history. God had brought me to a point where He revealed that I was so sinfully broken, and peeled away all my pride and self-worth, until I was finally willing to consider and accept D.

He came like a knight in shining armour, as we like to joke, arriving to pick me up for dates in his shiny car. On our first few outings, it felt like we’d been married for 10 years. There was nothing to hide, and conversation was comfortable. He cooked me egg omelettes for breakfast, sent me worship songs to encourage me and shared Bible passages with me that spoke into my situation. 

Love that was absent at the start grew, and then blossomed. Many dates and three years later, we were married. We celebrate our sixth wedding anniversary this year and our family has doubled in size.

After we were attached, my friend returned the Post-It note to me. I didn’t burn the note; I filed it away in a special box of memories as a reminder that I believe in a miracle-working God who knows me better than I know myself.

There’s a song often played at weddings that describes our love story. It’s Bless the Broken Road by Rascal Flatts. The chorus goes: 

Every long lost dream, led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like Northern stars
Pointing me on my way, into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

Ours is a peculiar love story, neither Hollywood-worthy, nor full of infatuation or passionate love. But it’s a story of how God brought two broken sinners together for the sake of his glory. He took my broken path and made it into a beautiful road. He is able to do what man thinks is impossible. 

I often think God must have been laughing at me when I said never, but it wasn’t a cruel joke that he played. It was the loving hand of God that moved, as if He was saying, “Watch what I will do with ‘never’ – see what I will do in your marriage.”

We still have our conflicts and bad days, but in this I have hope: That a marriage founded in God’s love is stronger than one founded in emotions, which are fleeting. 

Never say never.